The Ones Who Walk Away From Shambala
by baka deshi
Summary: Fighting for his life, Envy comes before the Gate with lingering regrets. So does someone else. Alfons Heiderich and Envy, implied HeiEd. Post CoS.


Memory, such as it was, was a tattered tapestry.

The world was ablaze with yellow, the sort of soulless light that only had a color because the mind had to pick something to attribute it as. For a moment, the creature writhed on the ground-that-was-not-ground, gasping reflexively just as much at the fact that it was not necessary to breathe as the fact that there was no air. Before it (_him_, a part of his frayed mind helpfully reminded suddenly, he was a _him_) was a door of impossible dimensions: impossibly thick, yet it could be seen around. Impossibly tall, yet the top could be discerned. From within it, voices whispered restlessly, hideous voices, seductive voices; voices that chilled and voices that gave heart.

He shook himself. He remembered now that he would have to fight to pull the holes together and remember who--no, _what_--he was. That would help, for when the door opened.

The doors began to swing slowly - yet also quickly, inexorably - open.

::so we see you finally come back::

He looked into malevolent purple eyes, thousands upon thousands of them, and had the curious sense he was looking in a mirror. That was it, he realized, his aching, lethargic body beginning to wake up to the yellow-world around it. He had come from here. Legion waited before him, inside of the Gate; many voices that were also one, one of the many contradictions inherent to the Gate of Death. He had been part of that once, before something had called out to him, power seeking power, and he, drawn like a moth to flame, had followed it down--

Envy fell to his knees before the watching eyes of his kin, and retched hard, came up with nothing.

::so easily the mighty fall. now you come to join us? join us...join us...:: Voices howled, voices cackled with glee. Legion did not like it when anyone escaped. Envy balled his hands into tight fists, trying to ignore how tired he felt, how much he wanted to just to lay down and fucking _die_. He did not have enough energy to fight back. If he gave in to their siren's song and walked into that dark, cool portal, he would never walk back out again as himself. Somewhere, a part of him cried out agony at that thought.

Besides, he thought cynically as his mind reformed itself, it wasn't as if he weren't already dead.

He managed to flash back through it all, at least the most recent history. He had lived through so many human lifetimes already (and he had always been grateful he hadn't been one for that reason, they weren't built for it; look how poorly Dante had handled the strain) that by now it had a tendency to only narrow down to a few basic constants, plus whatever had happened most recently. 

One, that he hated his creator, the ever-loving Bastard and his hell spawn children, absolutely.

Two, that nothing human could stand to the tests of time, or to his wrath.

Three, that there was no greater hell than he had not already lived through; in a certain light, he _was_ hell.

Envy curled his lip back, snarling at his Gate-bound brethren, and took stock of himself. He was in his familiar form again, tired, but shockingly whole. Long, springy locks of hair that he had designed himself to stand out unnaturally high from his head compared to a regular humans; they were almost like knives of plumage. Alabaster, undead skin that he really couldn't change, but he had done his best to cover when circumstances dictated. A neat, simple outfit halfway between male and female, which kept the stupid humans guessing and underestimating him, because certainly, nothing that wore a skirt could kick as hard as he did. Pah. He fell down into a crouch and snarled again, almost as if he were in dragon-form.

The legion mocked him, sending out little waving tentacle arms to brush at his restored legs, caress his face.

::poor baby, found his legs again:: The mad unison-voice cried. ::but now he doesn't have anywhere to walk on them!::

Envy stared back into the face of hell, unblinking, and couldn't help but smirk.

_All that, and this is the best you can throw at me? A lame-ass fucking insult?_

Why, while alive, he had been through fifty kinds of hell and back. He had been boiled, vivisected, shot with arrows, drawn and quartered, taken stones, and still come back for more. He had suffered the indignity of having his strength stripped away by the very Gate itself, his passage for leaving the realm called Amestris for the one that the humans called Munich. He been drained, defeated, his powers and souls taken away, until all he'd had left was a slithering serpent-shape; "the wyrm at the heart of all things", scholars here would have said. And still he'd lived on. He had crawled on his belly eating the earth like the Snake in the human's fool Bible, not caring that he was Damned because at that time he'd at least still had vengeance. There had been no room for anything else. His teeth the size of a man's arm, his sinewy body large and terrible, he had been a beast intent on one purpose - to hunt, and to kill, and that was all that he'd ever wanted.

And then he'd finally gotten that bastard of a man between his jaws, and Envy had realized to his discomfiture that something had _changed._

Somewhere, high and mocking, he thought he heard the Legion laughing as their hands continued brushing over him. He ignored them.

Tried to remember.

He could definitely remember what it had been like to receive the man. The first instant Hohenheim's body had been delivered to him, as his fangs had bitten down into putrid, sickly flesh, it had been a revelation. Instinct from the dragon-form had made him want to bite down, crush the prey, _finish it_ after all those years; intuition from his higher order brain had at the same time made him want to stay his rage. Let the old fool lie there, impaled in his jaws, unable to hide even in the solace of death. 

_I've finally got you right where I want you,_ he had half-growled, half-choked out around Hohenheim's body, because even simple communication had been an effort with something in his mouth and the mythical lances of Longinus pinning down his flesh. He had been ready to end it, Envy was sure of it. And then the old man had gone and asked the Question...

_All right. Now what?_

He hadn't known.

He hadn't known and his distress at that - not even rage so much as nameless disquiet at the sudden uncertainty of it all - had been very great. Not know? How could he not know, it had been _four hundred fucking years..._

And then, even more terribly:

_I'm sorry. You were my responsibility..._

He had wanted to say so many things to _that_, too. A "responsibility", in other words, a burden; Hohenheim had _made_ him and yet could only be bothered with him one way or the other now that Envy's fangs were buried into his flesh four inches deep. Such a 'responsible' man to just let Envy live on and on forever, shackled to a flesh-form, unable just to fall down and die...

_Fine then,_ he had growled. _Take responsibility._ He'd held fast and waited for the bastard's end to come.

::and what of that?:: His Gate-brethren mocked, the Legion's voice cackling, weeping, in amusement.

The bastard had stubbornly refused to die, Envy recalled angrily. That was the Gate's fault though, he was sure of it. Somewhere within the conduit between all possible lives and certain death, the parasite spirits there must have done something to the man, changed him... Envy had known it was not usual for a man to be rotting and yet live, but it was even stranger to encounter one to bleed but not die. Hohenheim's repugnant reek had permeated Envy's draconic nostrils, gore had leaked out endlessly over his forked tongue, and yet still the bastard had refused to expire.

Stayed with him.

::and how did you like that?:: Legion asked, some gibbering, some whispering. It was getting impossible to ignore, fucking assholes.

_I didn't,_ he snarled back. And yet, all right, he did. The bastard had laid there and started telling him _stories_ of all things, stories about his life and travels - fucking stories! As if he were four and not four hundred, as if he were that devoid of intelligence that he wouldn't see through to what the bastard was trying to do. End-of-the-line, last ditch attempt at feeling like he wasn't a total fuck-up, as if Envy (or anyone) should even _want_ to know who the man had been. He was only being a father because Envy had him literally by the throat. He hadn't had the strength to try to get away, Envy didn't think, but if he had tried, Envy would have made damn sure that his teeth would be the last thing the man ever experienced.

Then, they had been.

For the sake of his real son, his human son, that unspeakable yellow-eyed _thing_, Hohenheim himself had pulled Envy's jaws down around him, and they had both been undone and pulled into the light.

The legion at the Gate delighted in that part, their dark voices chortling with unanimous glee. They, like he, were nebulous (lost?) spirits, tethered by hate or "love" or some other emotion, still yearning to get free and return to life, to take back whatever it was they felt death had stolen from them. They were jealous, bitter beings, and Envy ground his teeth so hard together that they felt like they were breaking in an attempt not to start futilely attacking them.

As parasites hungry for life, they had probably been almost as acutely aware of the moment Hohenheim had dematerialized out from between his jaws as Envy had been.

_I'm sorry, son. Goodbye._

Which son? Should he be offended if it was directed at him, or if it was directed at Ed? Did it even matter? Hohenheim had been bathed in that light, and like most spirits, simply dissolved immediately to nothing, gone on to wherever it was the ones with nothing binding them went.

For a moment, he'd had him; in an instant, he'd been gone...

Envy knelt, wrapped his arms around himself tightly and thought about that.

Legion squealed and snorted at him.

The Gate itself merely stood there, an impassive monolith. Its judgments were silent, but when they did happen, they were swift.

Envy shied away from it. He did not want the touch of his brethren, or the Gate's judgment, just yet for some reason.

Together, in a land without air, in a land without season or darkness or any change at all, they waited.

Some indiscriminate amount of time later, another form began to appear in the preternatural glow.

Envy only briefly glanced at it at first, figuring it to be one of the many transitory spirits on their way from here to there. Those who lingered in the Gate were relatively rare. Then he got a better look at how it had resolved, and for a moment he thought he might literally spit nails. He quite possibly could, too. This close to the Gate the boundaries of all realities were warped together; practically anything was possible.

Unfortunately, including this.

_Where am I?_ the interloper to Envy's private hell said in a plaintive tone, and Envy got to his feet, hackles raised. Blond hair, a sweet, heart-shaped face, two things that always got his blood up - but no, this was not Edward or his brother the tin can. It was too tall for them, but not tall enough to be Hohenheim either (_slipped right out from between his jaws, not coming back again ever _EVER_now, oh fuck_). It was a teenaged human, but not one that Envy had ever cared about hunting, and thus Envy sat right back down again. He was too annoyed to even speak.

Besides, it wasn't as if anything could be killed here anyway. They were both already dead.

_What is this place?_ the man, who was mindful of the Elrics but not exactly one of their number, asked Envy.

He turned to face Envy.

_Am I dead?_

Envy snorted. What a stupid fucking question. _You're damn straight you are!_ he snapped right back.

The lanky man ran a shaky hand through his shaggy mop of hair, corn silk yellow, Envy noted briefly; it almost looked white against the horrid yellow that was all of Existence to them. The man went over to poke at the Gate, which was closed again although neither of them had seen it do such a thing. It was prone to mystery like that.

_What is this thing,_ the human asked. Envy huffed and pretended he hadn't heard. He was starting to realize the true horror of this situation. Usually, when unwanted humans started bothering him, he could throw a knife at their jugular or use his strength to snap their neck or just plain rip them limb from limb, and then they would _go away_. The Gate, however, _being_ death, meant that the only sanctuary to be had was through its doors. Envy did not want that yet, hell no.

::and why would that be, that you hesitate before death?:: the Legion mocked, its myriad voices tormenting. Beckoning.

"Silence!" he snarled at the top of his lungs, no longer able to handle so many things trying to _fuck_ with him, and the human started and whipped around to face him.

Got a dubious expression on its ape-face.

"Are you...God?" it asked, looking back and forth between him and the Gate in half-wonder, half-confusion. Stupid. Envy wanted to bite it. No permanent damage would be done, but perhaps it might feel it and understand how Envy felt right about now. He made an ugly face and the blond boy looked stricken, fell to his knees.

"I know I am not worthy," the man said, though whether he was addressing Envy or the Gate right now was impossible to discern. "I will confess to you my sins. Please God, have mercy."

"Look, I don't really give a shit--" Envy started to say, but perhaps the man had been talking to the Gate itself after all or something, because there it was open again, the tentacle-arms of Legion outstretched and hungry, greedy for whatever table scraps of humanity it could glean from this man. Bright flashes of memory began pouring out of the human.

Envy rolled his eyes. He had seen this song and dance before. The stripping, the way a soul was dissected and preyed upon when being absorbed into the Gate, was vaguely fascinating when seen from outside. Always before he had been right in there groping, searching for a tasty memory or a pound of flesh, something to make himself feel more..._more_. He would hate to think he'd once wanted to be human. Nevertheless, the energy of a soul was the most powerful thing in the universe. He too had once lain in wait inside the threshold, searching for a soul foolhardy enough to wait outside the Gate and give the Legion time to rifle through it.

Ribbons of bright thought came twisting out to be eaten by the waiting horde, idea given form by the impossibilities of Gate-space. Millions of grasping Legion hands swam out to touch the man, waiting to receive his essence. This close, Envy could feel the bright bits of identity searing through his senses even though he kept none for his own power. "Alfons Heiderich", born in the Year of our Lord 1906, who liked rainy days better than sunny ones and summer deer sausages and bright pieces of string, was slowly being covered and dissolved by tendrils that stole all these details, whatever they could get their greedy fingers on. The fate of those who lingered.

Envy watched with idle interest as Alfons's mind grew lighter, his expression becoming almost childlike as the Gate gladly stripped away memories of the "sins", both real and imagined, that the man was offering up. Greed, snitching a brother's lollipop when he had been five. Deceit, cheating off a test when he had been seven. Jealousy, stealing a school friend's coveted pencil case not because he'd wanted it, but simply because he hadn't wanted anyone else to have a better one.

Arrogance, at lab partners who were not as smart as he.

Pride, to want to build the first _and best_ rocket to make it into space.

Lust, to look at his roommate - his lonely, dependent, _male_ roommate - in an impure fashion; his roommate, whom he had selfishly never believed needed to leave until that fateful day had come when he'd realized Edward needed to go-

Edward Elric--

Envy did not so much move as _fly_ across the space between them, tackled the strange man and wrestled him away from the Legion's greedy grasp.

He felt their anger and deprivation lash at his back, but he himself had little to give them. He straddled the human on the ground and protected him, beating off the fluttering little black hands.

"Fuck off!" he snarled over his shoulder, and Legion gibbered at him, but mercifully, for the time, withdrew. Possibly to regroup, or perhaps, to wait and see what he would do. Legion had all the time in the world to be curious.

"Shove off! This is mine!"

The man beneath him struggled and blinked, looking utterly confused. He gave the human a hard shake, fisting one hand in the man's shaggy mop of hair and clamping the other down on his shoulder.

"Edward Elric," Envy spat out loud. "You know Edward Elric!?"

He watched 'Alfons's' eyebrows climb blankly for a moment and at first he thought for sure the man's memories of Edward must have all been tapped out too. Stupid fool, offering up his 'sins' in hopes of easing a guilty religious conscience. The Gate was always all too happy to make such a trade and let Legion feast, but whatever contentment the souls got from it was just the bliss ignorance afforded once all the shameful memories were gone. Real judgment, if there was any, was reserved for a higher court.

Reserved for wherever it was where those who did not stay to become Legion went on to.

"Edward" proved to be too strong of a trigger, though. The pretty blond boy's face crinkled up and he looked anguished.

"Am I being judged?" Alfons asked softly. His eyes were a very light color, probably blue. Hard to tell with the unholy yellow light all around them.

Envy snorted and batted away another stray feeler from the Legion.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. What do you know about Edward Elric? I want to know _now_."

Alfons shifted a little beneath him, then, finding Envy's arms and legs pinning him fast, gave up and closed his eyes.

"I knew him," Alfons said quietly. "I loved him. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I knew it was wrong." His eyes opened again and stared up at Envy beseechingly, seeking forgiveness.

"I don't give a shit if you loved him or not," Envy said hurriedly. He was aware just how angry he had probably made the Legion. Their tendrils were still reaching out to coil around his wrists and ankles periodically, reminding him they were there, reminding him he had interrupted their feast.

::you belong with us:: Legion whispered. ::you cannot escape. feast on him now and we will still get you. we will extract him from you, tear you apart if we have to. come, just bring him over, share him now. it will be less painful for you::

Envy kicked at the tendrils and focused fast on the man beneath him. Alfons was looking at him now with something akin to amazement.

"Y-you don't mind that I loved him -- he was another man, I thought of him lustfully, and --"

"I said, shut up about your sex life!" Envy hissed. "What I want to know is, how much time has passed? What year did you die? Where did you last see Edward Elric?"

The golden boy of his father, the bastard who had come back to him at the eleventh hour, and then was cruelly taken from him forever.

Edward was still out there.

Edward was still _alive_.

::as if you would be able to go back:: Legion moaned at him. ::you used all your lives chasing them, crawled belly-deep in the earth. you got the father, the one you wanted; what payment have you that says you may also have a crack at the son?::

"SHUT UP!" Envy howled at his Gate-brethren, enraged, then turned the full brunt of his ire back down to the man he was straddling. Alfons looked terrified at his sudden outburst. "Tell me about Edward, human!"

Alfons seemed momentarily unable to speak, then he went slack and gave in. He seemed to think this was also part of some trial, a good ol' fashioned purge the demons and praise Mary experience.

"I think I died sending him back," Alfons said softly, staring up and out and nothing. "Probably the only good thing I've really done in my life. At least, the only good thing I've done for him," the man said with a mirthless laugh. "God, all that time, I laughed off all of his 'stories'...and then it turns out he was right all along."

Envy grunted. He didn't care about all that. Whine whine whine; humans didn't know the meaning of suffering. What he most cared about at the moment was that tantalizing glimpse of life he had just felt from Alfons. As a creature of the Gate, he could feed on humans, human emotions, human flesh, human _energy_, and as Alfons had spoken he had drunk in the memory of Alfons's death, what it had felt like to watch his rocket go up and up into an impossible indoor sun, and then - a sudden blossoming of pain inside his chest, numbness. Growing cold. His own heart's blood draining out of him. As horrid as it was, the memory suddenly invigorated him. Envy felt his limbs grow sprier with the soul-energy it imparted.

He could hear the shrieks of his jealous Gate-brethren behind him, sending out feelers.

::what good will it do you to see your rival in a dying soul's mind? poor little ouroboros, can see edward in your mind but you have nothing to sink your teeth into. come, come back to us already, bring the boy, we will share him. we will drink him together, then drink away your memories, the ones that cause you pain, drink of your delicious rage...::

He didn't even bother to tell them to shut it this time, just forced his heart to become a stone and block that unholy siren's song out. Their words betrayed them. He had an inkling now of why they hadn't come after him yet. 

They had realized that he, amazingly, was as much of a meal as this human - that the experiences he had had on earth, the pain and rage they had engendered, would make him almost as tasty to absorb as the human. They would wait to see how far he could work himself up emotionally; then they would strike both of them together. Two birds with one stone.

Envy did the hardest thing ever, and tried to tell himself that he was calm.

For the first time since Hohenheim had blasted back into (_then out of!_) his life, he felt like he had a direction. A _plan_.

Alfons beneath him was wide-eyed and trembling, biting down on his lower lip a little. Envy studied the man carefully, taking in all the details. The human was nearly as pale as Envy himself was, and skinny, his hip bones and collarbone painfully prominent even through the clothes that Alfons's soul's ambient self-image had summoned around him. Dark circles under his eyes. Not a well human. In life he would have very soon gone on to his natural death, Envy felt, if this sickly image was the one his soul clung to even when freed of the flesh. 

Curious, he bent low and increased the contact between them, pressing his chest to Alfons's, his cheek to the human's. He breathed in at the same time Alfons did and pulled in a stray memory of when breathing itself had been a burden, of a blistering tightness racking his chest, of the air turning to poison with each attempt at inhaling. Cold sweats. He had pushed himself to the very edge of consciousness, yes, in attempting to save Edward; he had staunched Edward's bleeding gunshot wound, half-carried, half-dragged him over to the rocket he had intended to leave as his legacy on earth. The rocket he was now going to send Edward home in...

Envy's nostrils widened sharply and he came back to his own mind with effort. He remembered why it was dangerous to feed this way, potent though it was to draw in souls directly. There was the danger of losing yourself, whatever it was that made you Different. He was _convinced_ he was different now, too; Legion would not be interested in tasting him otherwise. Legion fed on difference, on human memories, ambitions, loves, hopes, fears - all that they had lost, all that they no longer had. He had been like that once too. 

That thought now made him shudder. He _didn't_ want to lose himself, he realized. There had been a reason he had refrained from just walking willingly back into the blackness. He knew it now. 

Somewhere out there, an Elric _still lived_.

He was going to find it.

"Tell me," he hissed, staring deep into 'Alfons's' pale, washed out eyes. "Tell me more about your 'Edward'."

As he had predicted, a roil of hot emotion/memories came surging toward him as the soul beneath him reacted to the priming. Envy fought the urge to just let go and rip the man apart, swallow his identity whole, oh _fuck_, he had forgotten what it felt like to be this close to a raw soul. They tasted so much better than the watered down crimson elixir, than the diluted red stones he had powered himself with for so many years...

_- Edward is smiling at him and his hair smells warm, he can tell it from here_

and his pencil makes scratching noises on paper and the landlady's cat is walking over his equations

Edward laughs and he laughs and the summer breeze is like breathing light -  


"I meant talk with _words_, fucker! Dammit!" he snarled at Alfons, struggling not to writhe at the power coursing through him, the sensuality of a warm summer day and cat brushing past him and life, fuck, all of it.

The man looked confused at that statement, but he opened his mouth.

"What...what _are_ you?" Alfons asked dubiously. A shadow passed over his face. "You don't sound like an angel..."

His face fell.

"Am I...am I in hell?"

Envy gritted his teeth.

"No, but if you're not careful I'm gonna send you there! Start talking. Tell me something you remember."

Something he could _use_. There were strong, recent memories there, especially ones associated with Edward Elric. Envy wondered if it was just that the two had (obviously) lived in proximity, or if it was indeed that 'love' he had whined about.

_I'm sorry, son._

Fuck that. His strongest memories were of Hohenheim, and _that_ had nothing to do with love.

The man beneath him blinked.

"What would you like to hear?" Alfons asked. "I already told you what I felt for him--I mean, I don't think I sinned against him in any other way, I never touched him certainly, what do you want from me--"

Damned humans and their religious complexes. Envy shook his mane of spiky hair, pretended the spikes were daggers raining down over Alfons's face.

"I don't care, anything!" he said. "Bad stuff, good stuff, whatever!"

A little slip of a tongue poked briefly out of Alfons's mouth as the man licked his lips, and then thankfully the idiot began to follow orders.

"Well," Alfons said, drawing in a deep breath. "He never could remember to take the kettle off the fire in the mornings."

Alfons smiled to himself at this bit of inane trivia, which would have made no sense at all if it had not been followed by the bright-hot memory of it. Envy spread his fingers wide on Alfons's shoulder and drew the power into him, hearing suddenly a thousand conversations - _Edward, you've ruined kettle again, Edward, you need to let me do that, Edward, how late were you up, oh dear, the kettle's gone dry_ - and _feeling_ the kettle handle beneath his fingers, the battered tin that was ice cold before the stove was lit and then hot, too hot to touch without a rag around your hand when it was ready, and it would whistle and Edward would bring his cup for tea, and they would make toast if they had any bread, on and on. The memories crashed over him all at once, then subsided, leaving his body thrumming with energy.

Legion howled in rage and jealousy.

Alfons paused mid-sentence, seeming confused. Now that Envy had drained that part of his identity, he no longer had a story to share.

"What was I talking about?" the man whimpered.

"Edward," Envy prompted, flexing his fingers and toes with glee. Fuck, but this was perfect. Alfons's energy was invigorating, bringing power to him once again, and he could practically feel himself growing stronger. Delicious life, thrumming through his veins, and it was all he could do not to crow in celebration.

Edward not only still lived, but it would be through Alfons's memories of Edward that Envy would live once more - live to see Edward again, and to deal with him properly.

The son that Hohenheim had to have actually been saying goodbye to, because if it wasn't him, Envy didn't know how he could take it.

He looked down at the human beneath him.

"I want to hear more about Edward," the homunculus prodded, a malicious smile spreading across his face. "C'mon, hit me."

There was the predictable roil of the man's psyche, but for some reason the tumultuous mass of emotion was less accessible this time. He could feel the energy circling just beneath Alfons's 'skin', but it refused to come up toward him.

"You _are_ judging me," Alfons said, sounding unhappy. Envy sneered. The little bastard was starting to figure it out, was he?

It was even harder not to want to bash his face in.

"That's for me to know and you to quit whining about, come on!" the Sin huffed as diplomatically as possible. "Fuck, why is this so hard? You said you loved him or whatever, tell me about that."

Alfons was still just staring at him dubiously, not seeming to trust a word he said. Envy twisted his fingers more tightly into the man's hair. The energy was there, he could _sense_ it - it was there mocking him, pooled just below the surface, but how to _get_ at it?

Envy tried a different tack.

"I'm thinking confessions," he said slyly. Wasn't that what these people always wanted? Absolution for their sins? "Like you did before. What did you want to do to him, tell me that. You loved him, you stupid shit, really you just wanted to _nail him_, didn't you? You wanted to stick it to him, didn't you, you wanted to hold him down and suck his cock or what? C'mon, tell me! Tell me how you wanted to be his whore..."

That seemed to do the trick. Alfons's eyes went wide with horror, and that surge of ego rolled forth but stopped just shy of overwhelming him this time. Envy could actually hear Alfons's words as he began, haltingly, to choke them out; could sense individual memories as they wound their way into him. A cloying, boring litany of "sins." He felt his groin twitch at the way Edward licked his lips every time he came across an interesting segment in the book he was reading, the first time he had realized he might have a problem...shivered and let his imagination run wild when Edward brushed against him in a crowd...shamefully hunkered down in his bed at night and fucked his own hand, thinking of Edward, on and on, it never ended. Hot flashes of sexuality layered thick with guilt, a delicious, heady mix. 

Legion ranted and raved about them, little tendrils slipping over Envy's thighs and buttocks, and he kicked them away absently, focused more on the soul beneath him, its delicious power.

_Yes, give it to me,_ Envy urged silently, pressing himself flat against Alfons. He licked at the divot of the man's throat, twisted his fingers in that yellow hair; every place where they connected was a point of light. The empty places within him reached out for the life Alfons had to give him, and he could see the soul grow visibly weaker as its essence transferred over into him, but it wasn't fast enough, it wasn't enough, he wanted to _live_ like this, he wanted to _live_--

The memories surged suddenly, and to Envy's horror, they all started flooding in to him at once.

Not just Edward, all sorts of things, but primarily Edward because that was what Alfons/he was thinking about, looking through Alfons/his eyes on a Sunday night to see a plate full of blood sausages and Edward laughing in the background and someone talking about rocketry and he was laughing too and everything was warm for an October; then the scene changed and he was somewhere else, in a lab sketching blueprints. Fuck. It had been too long, far too long, since he'd had a soul right there undistilled and Envy found his fatigue lessening but at the price of feeling a warm tingling throughout his gut at Edward patting his back over a job well done, over a casual, kind word in the hall at work, over a debauched, drunken night and Edward whispering stories into his ear, insane stories about a world that didn't exist but oh, the feeling of the man's lips brushing against his ear, and the whole side of his face was shot with electricity at each and every syllable Edward spoke-

"Fuck!" Envy gasped, slamming a hand down over Alfons's mouth and nose, spinning with the sheer intensity of it. His whole body was singing, every sense heightened; he could feel Alfons's mouth squirming against his palm as the little bastard desperately fought for air despite the fact that he didn't actually need to breathe. Life, wow, humans were so full of life; everything they touched was imbued with it. They lived hard and died hard and here was this one beneath him scrabbling at him, fighting to breathe and to live even though in truth he was already dead, and the form that he had was his soul's memory of life.

He collected himself finally and released the man's mouth, let him breathe the nonexistent air again. Alfons gasped once then immediately recovered. He seemed perplexed that his lungs didn't seem to actually need sustenance.

"You're dead, idiot, you don't need to breathe," Envy reminded him sulkily. "Now try it again, slower."

"...no."

Alfons glared at him then, the very picture of defiance. Envy didn't even bother hiding the eye roll this time.

"Look, pal, you don't have a choice," Envy snarled, though it was hard to think. The new memories sizzled and popped beneath his skin, desperate to assert themselves and threatening to overwhelm him. "It's my way or the fucking highway, now get cracking!"

"I said no," the human said, struggling with the words. "I see you for what you are now."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. Morningstar," Alfons pronounced, his eyes narrowed to slits. "You feed on my soul. You are no angel."

That just about did it. "Of course I'm fucking not!" Envy snapped, and gripped Alfons by the collar. "Do I have a pair of goddamn wings on my back? A little halo? Little lambs dancing at my feet, fuck!" It was the wrong thing to say though; Alfons's eyes hardened and the human's body, though frail, seized up.

Obnoxiously, he started to pray.

"I will fear no evil," Alfons muttered to himself, sliding his eyes shut. Envy could feel the soul's energy fall away, coiling back into itself where he couldn't quite get to it. "For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever--"

_No, no, NO!_ Envy shook the human, but he refused to shut up.

Somewhere, far off, Legion was laughing at him with all its insane glory.

::you want him, eh? you can't even control him! poor little homunculus, bit off more than he can chew, come back to us, let us eat him together, we'll save you a tasty childhood memory if you only come back--::

Envy slammed Alfons down and bit down hard on the man's earlobe, his neck; pressed his cheek against the man's skin, rubbed himself all over him, anything, anything to get closer to the source of those riotous memories, that wonderful, energizing rush. So close...he was so _close_ to having his strength back, enough to fight Legion and the Gate, and this little bastard was denying him. So close to having that bastard (_his father_) and Hohenheim had slipped right on through his teeth, he never fucking won, that was the way it always was--

_Goodbye, son..._

"Get thee behind me, devil," Alfons spat at him, "I renounce you," and Envy lost it completely.

"Oh, so you think you know _hell_ now," he snarled, half-mad with rage. He bared his teeth right in the man's face, aware of what they looked like; filed to sharp points, not at all human.

"You're here for five minutes and you think you know _hell_, want to throw me away and move on like everyone else does, well, have I fucking got news for you. You humans think you're so _noble_, so _smart_, you don't even understand that there is no devil - hell is OTHER PEOPLE! You treat each other like garbage, throw each other away-" _goodbye, son -_ "and you still think you can just foist all your shit off on me and then walk away? It's not that easy!"

He pulled up a memory, one of his new ones, and bit down on the man's throat, injected it back into Alfons that he might remember again. Alfons gasped as he/they saw the rocket spiraling up into that other world, screeched as the bullet tore through his/their back all over again, lived once more through death. Envy mumbled around his mouthful of skin, keeping the contact going.

"You loved him and he _left you_," Envy said around Alfons's Adam's apple. Alfons tried to pull his head away from the homunculus's fangs but Envy hung on, keeping the memory fresh. "You want other examples of how he treated you shittily? Ignored you for research? Told you that you were just a fucking _dream_ he was having? Face the facts. He fucked with you. Me taking your memories doesn't change that it happened. You want to pawn off all your shit on me, turn your nose up at me cause I'm not human, but another human was the one that screwed you over. He's the reason you're here at all."

"But I loved him. I wanted him to be happy..." Alfons said weakly. Envy could feel a huge mass of emotion swelling, trying to fight back, a million little rationalizations and memories and details. 

He kept going.

"No," Envy snarled. "You wanted him to be happy with _you_. It's right here in your memories; you gave it to me on a fucking _platter_" - an autumn night when Edward had fallen asleep on his/Alfons's bed and he/Alfons had stroked his face cautiously and wondered, dared to wonder, what would happen if Edward woke up - "and you can't deny you thought it. You wanted him, you idiot, and he ignored you day in and day out, and how the fuck can you think hell is any worse than that? I've been here, I've been out there, I _know_. My own creator cast me away the moment I was born. I promise you nothing here is any worse than that."

::then why won't you come back to us?:: Legion interjected, trying to get a word in. Envy ignored their voice entirely.

Alfons trembled violently.

"I have no regrets," the man protested, even though the memories welling just below the surface protested that wasn't true. Envy savaged his neck, pressed a mocking smile into the quivering flesh.

"The hell you don't," the homunculus said. "If you didn't still want him - if you didn't still want something - you wouldn't be here at the Gate. That's what this place is about, don't you get it? Souls come here because they _want something._."

The hands of Legion swished all around him, hovered over both of them hungrily, voices murmuring and screaming with glee.

::and what do you want?:: Legion asked, at the same time as Alfons did the same.

"And what do _you_ want?" the human said tiredly, and Envy told him the truth.

"The same thing you want," he growled, clamping down hard on the man, all that energy, all that promise. 

"_Life_," Envy breathed. "I want life. To go back."

_So he can't fucking leave me._

_So he can't fucking leave_ us.

He fed another memory back into the man and let it circulate, the memory of Edward on a winter's day, bringing him a cup of coffee to soothe his cold, and Alfons's eyes softened as they shared it. An answering image welled up, the taste of breakfast tea, and Envy licked at the man as they shared it together, the memory of living, the energy that was life in all its minutiae.

_You're right...I wasn't ready to go yet,_ Alfons soul admitted to him quietly, directly, no longer words but pure energy between them, and Envy was vaguely aware that he was losing it...the borders were blurring between them...but he was no longer entirely sure that he cared.

A hot thrum of energy pulsed throughout him and he could feel himself grow warmer, pressed as he was against Alfons's soul, twined with him. It was comfortable to pass these memories back and forth, he realized.

_A sprig of bright juniper berries and his scarf is red too, and somewhere far off, mother is calling - _

_A flash of dark green and Edward is holding up mistletoe with a question on his face, the silly bean doesn't even know what it means and he wants to show him by kissing the life out of him, turns away, the Professor is calling -_

_A flash of gold in the dark, he should be angry but isn't; the basement door is opening and if he transforms well he might get a smile today. Somewhere up the steps, father is calling -_

He had never shared back like this before, but something about the ritual was soothing. He inhaled small mysteries, breathed them back. Pressed every inch of himself against the man (himself?) beneath him. Took his lips.

Not so alone.

They tasted of cherry pie and Amestrian sweet cakes and sauerkraut and all the air they had ever collectively breathed; their skin slid together like silk, wool, velvet. He was coming undone at the edges, Envy felt muzzily, but the siren's song of Alfons's power sliding into him, and his own reaching out in turn was too much to resist. There was danger, a small part of himself that was still entirely himself cried out, but he could no longer tell where.

_He left you,_ Alfons's voice cried out in anguish, when a stern-faced man (_father_) looked down the steps at them in his basement laboratory, shook his head, turned out the lights.

_Should I hate him?_ Pain of a different sort blossoming in their chest as a golden-haired boy gazes up at him, flushed; but the color in his cheeks is from drink, and the home he begs for isn't the one they are going to.

Needing something. Needing strength to live again; needing the power to reach out and take - what?

_A sunny picnic, which the stern-faced man spreads out before them and although he doesn't eat, there is a sandwich there in front of him -_

A rare spring day, and he's been ill but there's a fresh stack of paper by his bedside, and he looks down upon the sheaf and there's all the necessary parts to their proposal, written out in perfect schoolboy English, now they can hand it in on time -

Should they hate?

It was coming too fast now, too hot, too powerful. An immense well of animosity, for a creator-(Hohenheim)-father who walked away, for a world that sent bombs and shrapnel to steal other fathers while their sons huddled in bed; an immense well of desire for all other things - so many little things - the feel of wind and grass, transforming and delighting mother-(Dante)-savior before it all went bad, a childhood experiment that showed the sky _these hands can build something, someday I will grow up to fly_. Legion's hands tickled over them, whispering false promises and egging them/him on, wanting to know what it was that they/he wanted, wanting to know what parts they could take -

::what do you want?:: the Legion cajoled, pestered gleefully.

::an end to pain? we can provide that. just come to us, let us taste you, you are so beautiful wound tight together...::

_No, I want-_

- to do it all over again -

- to not be afraid of telling him what I want -

- to be able to believe in something -

- to dream less and live more, I want - 

The taste of honey, the crackle of alchemy, the rush that came with tobogganing, the rush that came with killing; the feeling of a cat's fur and Edward's hair and cool Amestrian nights and muggy German summers, everything, _everything._

_I want everything._

The last border between them shuddered and fell away, and in that instant, the shell that had been Envy twisted, racked with feeling, gave way into light.

His last, fading thought was perhaps, after all this time of cursing it, he would get the chance to know heaven anyway.

Sometime later, a new creature stood before the Gate, tall, proud, the vigor of youth coursing through its veins. It was pale, though perfectly healthy; clad only in black with a slightly-too wide smile, pointed teeth. Its hair was short and pale as well, the color of corn tassels and cream.

Its eyes, when it opened them, were purple.

::what do you want?:: the voice of Legion asked, a whisper and a roar all at once, as it was in this place. The creature looked neither right nor left, only straight ahead at what lay before it. The Eye of the Truth, the darkness, the Gate.

_I want nothing that you have to offer,_ it said to Legion, and its voice was low and clear, a young man's bright tenor, though its eyes seemed old. _What I want is what belongs to me, what was taken from me early, and what I am owed._

_I want Life,_ it said, staring up at the Gate. 

Legion ranted and raved, squabbled and reasoned, offering plans to every great wonder ever to be built, the power to fly or heal with a touch, little things, great things, all for the small price of some of its energy, but it remained steadfast, staring ahead.

_I want my life, because I don't believe I've lived it,_ it said simply, and the great Eye of the Truth, the one Truth among many, blinked once, slowly.

::SO BE IT::

The darkness reached out, but the hands of Legion could not touch it.

An eternity, a second, a few years, an hour later, the stranger awoke on a street. Cobblestones greeted him, and the smell of marks burning. Cold sweat. Cold air. Cold earth, beneath him.

The stranger smiled to himself and stared for a while, not noticed by passersby or the street people. If he looked strange, so did all of them. Just one face among many, the way all life was.

The way all life should be.

He smiled to himself and thrust himself to his feet, not caring if he got a few odd looks as he pushed his way, shivering, into the crowd. He would have to find thicker clothes perhaps, a coat, but all that could wait. For now, there was one word in his head, the name to his purpose, though he wasn't sure yet where it would lead. A part of him railed at it, a part of him sighed at it, but it was all of himself right now, and he would follow it to its conclusion.

"Edward," the man whispered quietly, and turned his nose to the wind.

::desolation yes / hesitation no::


End file.
